


ill crawl home to her

by brookethenerd



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Home for Christmas, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21762136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookethenerd/pseuds/brookethenerd
Summary: The reader comes home from college early and surprises Steve (aka pure, sweet fluff)
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Reader, Steve Harrington/You
Kudos: 65





	ill crawl home to her

In the five months since you left Hawkins, Indiana for college, you’ve studied more than you’ve slept, and admittedly, drank more than you’ve studied. It’s the first time you’ve come home since leaving, and though part of you expected the small town to change - you’d changed in your absence, after all - the city still resembles the one you left at the end of August. The trees have shed their leaves, and snow dusts the ground, but as you drive through the city square, Melvald’s still has its token SALE signs in the window - which have been up since you were a kid - the movie theater is just as worn down, and you can see the dented pole that you and Steve accidentally drove into when he taught you to drive a few years back. 

The semester doesn’t technically end for another week, but all your finals happened early, and since all of your school friends were trapped between the pages of textbooks and lecture notes, nothing was stopping you from coming home early. Which gives you the perfect opportunity to surprise everyone; particularly, your boyfriend. 

Only Robin knows you’re headed into town early, and it was she who guaranteed Steve would be at the video store when you got there. On the phone that morning, she’d promised to handcuff him to the counter if he tried to leave; you’d told her that was incredibly unnecessary, but you figured she just wanted an excuse to use the handcuffs you’d sent her as a joke. Meant to be used in the bedroom, not to tie up your boyfriend. 

You pull your car up beside Steve’s station wagon and send up a silent thanks to Robin, who succeeded in keeping him at the store, climbing out and tugging a jacket on against the cold. You push through the door, the bell above it signaling your arrival, and a familiar voice calls, “Be with you in a sec!” 

Steve. Your stomach rolls at the sound of his voice, the butterflies in your belly launching into action, making you feel like a teenager again, nervous and giddy whenever he’s around. You’re suddenly nervous; five months is a long time to only talk to someone on the phone. What if things are different? What if he doesn’t feel the same as he did before you left? What if he isn’t happy to see you? 

You shove down the insecurities and approach the counter; you’re here now, and there’s no going back. In the backroom, you can hear the shuffling around of boxes. 

“Take your time!” You reply. The shuffling stops, followed by a small crashing noise and a curse, and then Steve - hair a little longer, fully healed from the events of the summer save for a tiny scar on his cheek - steps through the doorway, brows furrowing. When his eyes land on you, they widen in surprise, and for a long moment, he doesn’t move. Like he’s a deer in headlights, staring at a ghost. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks. Your heart twinges, and you pray your voice is steady when you speak. 

“I’ve been gone for five months, and that’s what you’re going with?” You ask, arching a brow. After a beat, his lips curl up in a lopsided smile, and then he’s coming around the counter toward you. He practically runs to meet you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you, swinging you in a circle. A laugh slips past your lips, and you grip him tightly. He lowers you back onto the ground, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. 

“You’re not-I thought-” he stammers, brain working too quickly for his mouth to follow. Your heart swells, and it takes everything in you not to giggle like a maniac. 

Steve. Steve is here. Steve is here, with you, holding you, smiling at you like you’re some kind of miracle. 

“Got done early. Figured I’d surprise you,” you say. “Are you surprised?” 

“I almost gave myself a concussion back there,” he says. 

“What would that be? The fourth? Fifth?”

His hands move to your waist, and he ducks his head against your neck, hair tickling your ear. 

“I missed you giving me shit.”

“I give it better than anyone,” you say. He lifts his head and smiles. 

“An incredible shit-giver.” You crinkle your nose. 

“Yeah, no, I take that back.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the P, “can’t take it back.”

“Steve-”

“My sweet, sweet, shit-giver.”

“I’ll dump you right here.”

“Then who would do this?” He asks, bending down to brush his lips against yours. You tilt your chin up, leaning into him, but he pulls back with a wicked grin. You let out a groan in protest. 

“Patience, grasshopper,” he says, “there’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

“And what are we doing right now?” You ask. He shifts so that you’re tucked against his side and draws you toward the counter, pressing you against it. 

“You’re going to tell me all about college,” he says. 

“We have time for that,” you whine, tilting your chin up to kiss him. He gives in for a long moment, lips parting against yours. You’ve missed this; his mouth on yours, his fingertips pressed against your skin, his smile against your lips. 

“Customers,” he murmurs against your mouth. You pull back long enough to glance around the empty store, gaze landing on the employee break room. You gesture toward it with your chin, and a wicked grin tugs on Steve’s lips. 

“Maybe for a little while,” he says. You take his hand and tug him toward the open door. 

“We can save the catching up thing for later,” you say, tugging the door shut and tugging him against you. He relents, arms winding around your waist, and kisses you. 

You’ve got a month before you have to return to school. There’s plenty of time to catch up. And, of course, plenty of time to do other things. 


End file.
